Last Man Standing
by JKButcher
Summary: When Harry Potter loses an integral part of himself in a splinching accident, it greatly affects his hunt for the remaining Horcruxes, and his battle with Voldemort. Will the support of his friends be enough to see Harry become the last man standing?
1. Chapter 1: Sweet Summertime

_Disclaimer: I am not JKR, and as such I do not own any of the characters or locations herein. I just enjoy winding them up and seeing where they go when I turn them loose._

**Chapter 1: Sweet Summertime**

Life with the Dursleys had never been pleasant for Harry Potter, and the summer of his 17th birthday was no exception. This was ironic, as it was not only his last stay with his sole remaining blood relatives, but also because he had only to look out his window to catch a glimpse of whichever member of the Order of the Phoenix was surreptitiously standing guard. During any other summer holiday, Harry would have been thrilled at the thought of either of these occurrences. Instead, they were a constant reminder that he was more of a prisoner here on Privet Drive than he had ever been before. However, the most troubling aspect of Harry's life this particular summer – and certainly the most ironic – was the fact that the Dursleys were behaving almost amicably towards him.

Harry noticed the change almost immediately. He arrived unannounced with Mr. Weasley after returning from Hogwarts early; the death of the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, had ended the school year tragically. Mr. Weasley had insisted that Harry side-along apparate with him from Platform 9 & ¾ after saying his good-byes. They had apparated a fair distance away from number four, and had walked the remainder of the way, Mr. Weasley keeping a sharp eye out and his hand poised above the wand pocket in his curiously ill-fitting Muggle trousers. Despite drawing more than a few curious looks from the conservative (and terribly nosy) neighbors, they had made it without incident.

It was Harry's uncle who opened the door when they knocked, and Harry was certain that Vernon would finally blow the one and only gasket he had remaining in that oft-steaming head of his. He therefore thought himself to be imagining things when Mr. Dursley instead said, "What in the- I mean... What a nice surprise," albeit in a strained voice. Harry immediately drew his wand – he was so surprised, he supposed this must be a Death Eater using Polyjuice potion – and looked up at his Uncle in shock. The beefy man was displaying a set of firmly clenched teeth – a few of which were gold – through a forced smile.

The smile faltered visibly at the site of Harry's wand, but the affected manner stayed. "Now now, there's no need for any -" Mr. Dursley broke off and made a vague sweeping motion with his hand. Harry was well aware of his Uncle's vast dislike of all things magical, and his unwillingness to even say the word 'magic' convinced him he was looking at the genuine article. He returned the wand to the back pocket of his jeans. Buttocks be damned, he thought.

At this point Mr. Weasley stepped forward and offered his hand to Harry's uncle. "Mr. Dursley, I'm terribly sorry to bother you, but Hogwarts has had to-" Vernon held up his hand to cut off Arthur's explanation for Harry's earlier than expected arrival. Harry inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't certain he could bear to see the look of glee on his Uncle's face when he was informed that Hogwarts had had to close.

"Won't you come in?" muttered Uncle Vernon with a pained expression. It was more of an order than a question, but Mr. Weasley didn't seem to notice.

"Oh! Well..." Harry could tell that Mr. Weasley was having a rather furious internal debate, no doubt involving his overwhelming urge to pepper the Muggles with questions about televisions and other such novelties. Uncle Vernon didn't wait for the inevitable conclusion.

"I insist," he grunted, and grabbed hold of the arms of both Harry and Mr. Weasley and pulled them through the door. Harry's Aunt Petunia stuck her head out of the doorway to the kitchen – a task her long neck enabled her to perform quite easily – and looked questioningly at her husband.

"Who is it, De-" Her eyes traveled to where Harry was standing and she let out a loud gasp. She quickly pulled her head out of sight, and Harry thought he could hear her mumbling something under her breath. When she reappeared, however, it was with a smile every bit as forced as Vernon's. "Well hello there, Harry. You must be tired, won't you come have a bit of tea?" She gasped again when she noticed Mr. Weasley, and her smile disappeared altogether. Harry was sure she was remembering the last time Arthur Weasley had visited Privet Drive. "And you, Mr... I've forgotten your name."

"Weasley," Arthur responded, tipping his cap and ignoring Petunia's deplorable manners, "but I'm afraid I'll have to pass. There is pressing business to attend to at the Ministry. I just wanted to make sure that Harry here got home safely. We were a bit surprised that you weren't waiting for him at the train station to be honest."

"We would have been if we had received word of his early arrival," said Uncle Vernon, beads of sweat forming on his brow, apparently from the stupendous effort necessary to be hospitable to the two individuals standing before him. Mr. Weasley frowned.

"I'm quite certain that Minerva McGonagall sent owls to the families of all the Hogwarts students."

"An owl you say?" asked Uncle Vernon, his voice oddly high pitched. "I'm sure we would have remembered an owl." He turned and winked at his wife, who nodded a bit too vigorously. Harry heard a pounding on the stairs, and his towering cousin appeared in the hall with what seemed to be a pellet gun in his hand.

"Did I hear something about an owl?" He asked excitedly. "I could use some more target practice." Harry's stomach did a nauseating little flip as Aunt Petunia quickly turned to Dudley and put a finger to her lips, nodding in the direction of the two wizards. Dudley jumped and Harry could see his Adam's apple bob as though he had just swallowed the world's largest fly. Harry pointed an accusatory finger at Dudley.

"I could do with some target practice myself Dudders, so if you even so much as point that thing in the general direction of Hedwig-" Harry paused searching for an appropriately grievous threat, but was cut across by his Uncle.

"Dudley was just joking, wasn't he?" he asked, with a threatening look of his own at his suddenly shaking son. It was all Dudley could do to manage a nod.

"Why don't you go back on upstairs with Jen?" prodded Aunt Petunia gently. "Keep her company until ours leaves? Wouldn't want her getting any id- er... lonely... getting lonely." Dudley nodded again and made a stumbling quick retreat up the stairs.

"Like I mentioned before," began Mr. Weasley after clearing his throat, "I wouldn't want to be an _imposition_, and I really must be going anyway." Both Petunia and Vernon's bodies relaxed visibly, their shoulders slumping slightly. "Just be aware that we will be keeping a very close eye on Harry this summer. But of course, I'm sure that you'll do nothing to run _afowl_ of us, will you?" Harry rolled his eyes. Leave it to Mr. Weasley to include a bad pun in what was supposed to be a threat. The balding redhead turned to Harry and looked him in the eyes.

"Harry-" He paused, looking as though what he was about to say pained him greatly.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley?" prompted Harry, after he found he could stand the tension no longer.

"Well, I-" He shook his head slowly, and put a fatherly hand on Harry's shoulder. "I was going to tell you to keep your head low and stay out of trouble, but we both know that trouble is instead looking for you. Just promise me that you'll do what you can to stay safe. The world needs you Harry. My family needs you." Harry took a breathed in deeply, but said nothing. Words failed him at the moment.

Mr. Weasley turned to the Dursleys and tipped his cap once more, though this time Harry was able to tell that it was not as naive a gesture as it had been before. Arthur was nearly out the door before he turned suddenly with an unexpectedly bright look on his face. "Oh! Harry, you can be expecting an official invitation for Bill and Fleur's wedding sometime in the coming weeks. Of course you'll have to come. We wouldn't have it any other way." Harry returned the smile, the last to cross his face until he left Privet Drive for good.

"Not even Voldemort could keep me away," he said earnestly, and for once Mr. Weasley did not flinch at the mention of the name. He instead chuckled as he closed the door behind him. Harry turned to the Dursleys, the smile quickly fading from his face. "All right, what's going on. Why are you being so – well, not nice exactly, but peaceable." Harry looked from his Aunt to his Uncle, expecting a change in their demeanor now that they were alone, but one didn't seem to be forthcoming. "And who's Jen?" he demanded.

"Jen is Dumpling's new lady friend," Aunt Petunia answered, her eyes going starry. "Such a sweet girl." Harry was repulsed both by his Aunt's new pet-name for her only offspring, and that anyone could find Dudley attractive. "But you must be careful around her, Dumpling would be terribly heartbroken if she were to leave because of what you are." Harry looked at his Uncle, expecting some bit of bluster about keeping his wand stowed, but once again found himself disconcerted when it didn't come.

"Shall we get your things off of the porch then, Harry?" Vernon asked instead, a vein pulsing dangerously on his forehead. Harry very much doubted that his uncle really wanted to touch a trunk filled with magical items, and regardless, he had no intention of allowing him anywhere near Hedwig, so he refused the offer, instead choosing to lug his belongings up to his bedroom by himself. He remained there, stroking Hedwig and pondering the many tasks that lay ahead of him in the coming year, until he was called to dinner sometime later.

True to Mr. Weasley's word, the invitation to Bill and Fleur's wedding arrived via an owl – one that Harry had never seen before – a few weeks later. A short scroll of fine white parchment was attached to the owl's leg with a length of gold ribbon. Harry untied it gingerly, and offered the owl one of Hedwig's treats. The owl pecked at it graciously and settled on the window sill, apparently waiting for a reply.

Harry pushed aside several old editions of the Daily Prophet that littered his bed – he hadn't subscribed, but Hermione had taken to sending him her own copies complete with highlighting and notes in the margins. She was still on the lookout for any mention of individuals with the initials R.A.B. and information on the exploits of Voldemort. Thus far there hadn't been any of the former, and far too much of the latter. He sat on the bed and carefully unfurled the parchment after undoing the bow in the ribbon. It softly started playing a poignant melody, and a faint silhouette of a dancing couple twirled in time to the music behind the text as Harry read.

_**Mr. Arthur Weasley and Mrs. Molly Weasley**_

_**and**_

_**Mrs. Callá Delacour**_

_**cordially invite you to the wedding of**_

_**Mr. Bill Weasley and Ms. Fleur Delacour**_

_**at 2:00 pm on Saturday, August 6th, 1997.**_

_**Please join us in the garden of The Burrow**_

_**to help us celebrate this magical day.**_

_**Arrival via Floo Powder begins at noon,**_

_**and apparation is more than welcome.**_

_**A reception will immediately follow the ceremony.**_

_**Please RSVP by return owl.**_

_**In lieu of gifts, please make a donation to the Ministry of Magic's**_

_**Werewolf Support Services Office.**_

Harry's gaze lingered on the dancing couple for several seconds after he finished reading the invitation. They looked so happy and carefree, and for a brief instant he was excited by the possibility of dancing with Ginny in the same manner. Then he remembered that he had broken up with her just weeks before. He frowned and furled up the invitation. The music stopped, and Harry wondered if the now hidden couple was still dancing. He somehow doubted it.

Harry looked back at the piece of ribbon he had untied earlier, and noticed that there was a small white card attached to it. He picked it up and found it to be the RSVP card. He quickly grabbed his wand – as the card instructed – and tapped it twice, first in the box next to "Yes, I will attend," and second in the box marking his preference of dinner entree. Harry selected the fish, preferring to not take his chances with the steak being undercooked. He then reattached the card to the waiting owl's leg, and watched as the owl soared out over the back garden and vanished into the setting sun.

At breakfast the following morning, Harry found a surprise waiting for him in the kitchen. Dudley's new girlfriend Jennifer was sitting at the table fiddling with her long blonde hair. Harry had seen the girl just twice in the past two weeks, and both times Dudley had been quick to usher her past Harry as though embarassed by him.

"Good morning, Harry," said Jennifer brightly, catching Harry off guard. He was not used to being greeted in this house, even with the Dursley's newly feigned niceness.

"Erm... good morning?" replied Harry, questioningly. Jennifer smiled at him, and Harry was struck by just how pretty she actually was. Dudley may make a lot of questionable decisions, but Harry had to commend him on this one.

"Why don't you sit down and I'll make you some breakfast." Harry was too amazed to do anything but nod. This was an honest attempt at being nice, and it was almost too big a shock for Harry's system to take. He sat at the opposite end of the table from Jennifer and looked at her questioningly.

"I don't think that Dudley would take to kindly to you making me breakfast," he said with a raised eyebrow. He saw Jennifer's eyes sweep up past his own eyes to his forehead. She frowned.

"Oh, I could care less what Dudley thinks. I think he's terrible to you, and I don't see why really. And what did -" she broke off suddenly when Harry reached a hand up and attempted to cover his scar by brushing his hair forward. "What did you want for breakfast?" she concluded. Harry let out a sigh of relief. He was so used to everyone making a big deal about his scar. He sometimes forgot that Muggles thought it was just that, a normal scar.

"I suppose some toast would be fine," he answered. Jennifer nodded and turned towards the breadbox. "So where is Dudley this morning anyway?" asked Harry, curious as to why his cousin would leave such a nice pretty girl alone to fend for herself.

"He's off at Piers' house for a few minutes. He had something that he wanted to show him." She withdrew a loaf of white bread from the breadbox and opened it. Several pieces dropped onto the floor. "Oh dear," she exclaimed, and bent over to pick them up. Harry rose from his seat to help her, but she tutted at him and he sat back down.

"So you didn't want to go with him?" he asked. For some reason he found himself very interested in Dudley's love life. He could sense that there was a lot of good ammunition here for the future. Jennifer gave a half-hearted laugh.

"Goodness, no. I can only imagine what Piers would want to show Dudley. Probably one of those jazz mags he has hidden under his bed. They trade them, you know." Harry had to work hard to supress a laugh. He was finding it increasingly difficult to dislike this girl. Jennifer had finished picking up the bread, and tossed it into the garbage, and was now looking about the kitchen, searching for something. "Harry, where's the um- what is it called?"

"The toaster?" asked Harry, suddenly confused. "It's on the counter right in front of you." Jennifer smacked her forehead with the palm of her right hand, and let out a groan.

"Of course it is. Silly me." She removed two more slices of bread from the bag, and placed them gingerly into the toaster. She hesitated, looking at it expectantly.

"Just push the big lever down there in the front," instructed Harry, frowning slightly. "Do you not have a toaster in your house?" he asked. Jennifer's shoulders slumped, but Harry couldn't see her face as she was turned away from him. He thought she must be embarassed.

"No, we have something else, one of-"

"Oh, a toaster oven?" asked Harry. The back of Jennifer's head nodded quickly.

"That's right," she said. Harry decided to change the subject.

"So how did you and Dudley meet?" he asked. Jennifer turned to face Harry, and opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment Dudley himself walked in.

"Hello, dear," he said to Jennifer, walking up to her and putting his arms around her. Harry couldn't help but notice that she shrunk backwards slightly at his touch. "Making me breakfast, are you?" Jennifer said nothing, but nodded towards the table. Dudley turned towards Harry, and a large scowl twisted his features when he saw him.

"Good morning, Dudley," said Harry, a bit more cheerfully than the situation called for. Dudley said nothing, instead turning to Jennifer.

"Jen, why don't you go on upstairs. I'll take care of Harry for you." Jennifer bit her lip and looked furious, but did as Dudley asked. She gave Harry an apologetic look as she walked out of the kitchen. The toaster popped out it's contents, and Dudley grabbed a slice.

"She's really a nice girl Dudley," said Harry, frowning. "Makes me wonder just what she's doing with a git like you." Dudley smirked and took a bite of toast.

"You're just jealous. We both know that there's no way a girl could ever like a freak like you. I'd be willing to bet that even the girl freaks find you too freaky, you freak." Harry had to fight the urge to snicker.

"Your insults are as witty as ever, I see. And I have no need to be jealous of you, I saw the way that Jennifer pulled away from you just now. She's afraid of you Dudley." Dudley's face went scarlet, and he tossed the half-eaten toast back over his shoulder. His ham-hock hands clenched into fists. Harry was suddenly struck by how similar Dudley was in appearance to his father.

"You'll want to be taking that back Harry," Dudley said threateningly. "Or I will give _you _a reason to be afraid of me." He tilted his head to one side, and Harry could hear his neck crack menacingly. This was a fight that Harry was sure he would lose should it come to that, but he found he just couldn't stop himself. With his aunt and uncle being civil, he had had no one to take out his anger on, and now, given the opportunity to present itself, it was boiling to the surface.

"Aren't you supposed to be nice to me – _Dumpling_?" he asked, shifting his weight in his chair to be better prepared to make a run for it.

"DO. NOT. CALL. ME. DUMPLING!" shouted Dudley, and he lunged across the table at Harry. Harry, having excellent reflexes, pushed his feet hard into the floor and his chair toppled over backwards, keeping him just out of Dudley's reach. Harry caught his fall with his hands, and scrambled backwards away from the table.

Dudley had not been able to stop his own fall, and had landed on the table with a sickening crack. The table was now buckling in the middle, under the immense weight that was the youngest Dursley. Dudley was trying to lift himself off of the table, but the rapidly increasing angle of the buckle prevented him from doing so. After a few more groans and pops of defeat, the table surrendered after a valiant effort, and Dudley fell the remainder of the way to the floor. Harry could hear the air escape him as he hit the floor.

The two cousins sat there staring at each other in silence for several moments, with Dudley clutching at his chest. The staring contest would surely have gone on for some time had Uncle Vernon not come into the kitchen in a roaring temper.

"WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON?" he bellowed, seeing the smashed table, the tipped over chair, and the two boys on the floor. His gaze lingered on Harry, and Harry could tell that he was having trouble keeping his anger in check.

"Come on Uncle Vernon!" Harry got to his feet and pointed a finger at his uncle's chest. "You know you want to lock me up again!" The corners of Vernon's mouth twitched downward, and Harry though he could see him nod slightly. He did not, however, say anything.

"Dad – come on, you've – got to do something! He was – insulting Jennifer to my – face! He was insulting _me_!" Dudley too had managed to struggle to his feet, and now stood in the middle of the broken table. His shoulders were still heaving as he attempted to regain his wind.

Several veins were clearly visible on Vernon's forehead, and Harry could clearly see blood pulsing through them rapidly.

"Harry," he growled, not looking at his nephew, "please leave me alone with Dudley." Harry was astounded. He had anticipated at the very least a tongue lashing, if not an actual lashing. Whatever was causing the Dursleys to be nice to him was a far more powerful motivator than he had anticipated. Suddenly struck with an idea, Harry hurried from the kitchen, bolted up the stairs, threw open the door to his bedroom (he kept it closed at all times of course), and rooted around in his trunk until he found what he was looking for.

He slowly made his way back downstairs, careful to avoid the creaking step in the staircase, and unwrapped the extendable ear he had in his hand. He unrolled the flesh colored string and placed one end near the now closed door to the kitchen. He then retreated into the cupboard under the stairs with the other end, which he hastily placed in his ear.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Harry could hear Dudley say. "I couldn't just stand there and let him insult me and Jennifer like that."

"Dudley, I know that these past two weeks have been difficult for you – goodness knows that I've wanted to throttle the freak several times. The nerve that boy's got." There was a pause of several seconds, and Harry was sure that his Uncle was fantasizing about all of the punishments he'd love to dole out to Harry. "Unfortunately, you know what he is."

"But he was- he was one of them before, why do we have to pretend to be nice now?"

"You know full well that he turns seventeen soon, and when he does he'll be able to- well, you know. He could do whatever he'd like to us. Please just keep yourself in check until he leaves. There's no sense in making him mad at us now. If we're lucky, he'll just leave and never come back."

"But Dad-"

"I don't want to hear it Dudley, this is what your mother and I have decided. It's for the well-being of this family. I'm not sure we could live through you having another tail, or- or worse." Harry could hear Dudley gulp audibly. It was one of the Dursleys' greatest secrets that Dudley had once been given a pig's tail by none other than Rubeus Hagrid. Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the memory.

"Now go up and see to Jennifer. Try and keep her away from Harry as much as possible; she's a nice girl and we don't want her to fall in with someone like him." Harry pulled hard on the string of the extendable ear, and the receiving end passed under the door of the cupboard. He wound up string absently as he thought about what he had heard.

So the Dursley's were afraid that he'd get revenge on them after his seventeenth birthday. It was too bad that they had only just realized that this might happen, or he could have had several more enjoyable summers on Privet Drive. Harry spent several hours in the cramped darkness of the cupboard under the stairs, contemplating methods of revenge he could employ on the Dursleys once his birthday arrived.

When he finally exited, the house was empty and he was in a much better mood.

_A/N: Ahh... it feels great to be back. I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, but I ask that you please leave a review, even if (especially if) you didn't particularly care for it. I am always looking to improve my writing and a great criticism is certainly capable of enabling me to do so. Along those lines, I am in need of a Beta-reader. Anyone interested can get in contact with me at fic has me entirely geeked out. I haven't been this excited about something in a long time, and I hope that you will continue on this ride with me. The ending in particular is an idea I am thrilled with, and I have every intention of continuing this fic after the release of Deathly Hallows, just so I can see this idea realized._

_Until next time, I remain you humble author._


	2. Chapter 2a: The Snakebit Blitz

Disclaimer: All characters and locations in this chapter are the propert of J. K. Rowling (except Jennifer, and I doubt JKR would want her anyway.)

_A/N: In an attempt to update more frequently, I am going to split my chapters in half. I have done this with previous fics, and it seems to work well. If anyone is interested in reading the story in it's full-chaptered form, it will be presented in that manner on HPFF. And now, on with the show._

**Chapter 2: The Snakebit Blitz**

As hot humid July days slowly crept by, Harry became increasingly restless and irritable. Hermione's copies of the Daily Prophet were now arriving almost daily, and thus far the news was spectacularly bad. Voldemort and his supporters had started an offensive that the paper had taken to calling the "Snakebit Blitz," and it was close to bringing the wizarding world to its knees. Even Harry, safely secreted away from all of the action, was beginning to worry for his friends.

Three days ago, Elphias Doge, a member of the original Order of the Phoenix, and one of those who accompanied Harry to twelve Grimmauld Place for the first time, had been found dead inside his home in Liverpool. It had not, Harry was certain, been a painless death. Doge's body had been chopped into tiny pieces, and then arranged into a pattern on the kitchen table that spelled out "Ashes to Dust." The papers had had several theories on what the phrase meant, but for the other members of the Order of the Phoenix, the meaning was crystal clear. Their days were numbered. He was therefore quite relieved when none other than Hermione Granger showed up on his doorstep.

He had been sitting alone in the kitchen watching the evening news when he heard the faint knock at the door. He jumped up and walked through the door of the kitchen and down the hall past where his aunt and uncle were watching the same telecast. Harry preferred to watch the news alone so that he wouldn't have to put up with his uncle's ongoing commentary about the Prime Minister (everyone believed him to be going insane, as he kept muttering about talking paintings and giants). Dudley was up in his room playing with the new telescope he had received for his birthday just weeks before (one of a record breaking forty-nine presents). Harry was certain that the heavenly bodies that Dudley was most interested in looking at would never have been on one of Professor Sinistra's exams.

Harry walked to the door cautiously and looked out through the peephole. He was greeted by the sight of a bushy brown head, one that he would have known anywhere. Hermione was nervously biting her lip, and looking around furtively. She was just about to reach up to knock again when Harry opened the door. Hermione flinched as the door opened.

"Oh! Thank goodness it's you!" she blurted, a sigh of relief escaping her as she caught sight of Harry. "I mean, I had hoped it would be you, of course, and not those terrible relatives you've told me about. I kept trying to come up with things to say to them if they had op-"

"Hermione," said Harry softly, trying to get her to calm down, "take a deep breath." Hermione's mouth stopped moving, but she did not breathe in. "It's good to see you too." Hermione let out a small sob, and threw herself into Harry's arms. He had no choice but to stand there and hold her up, as it felt like she would collapse without his support. He could feel her tears beginning to bleed through the fabric of his t-shirt. "What's wrong?" he finally managed to ask after what, to him, seemed like an eternity.

Hermione straightened up immediately, and rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. "Nothing Harry," she said far too quickly. "I-in fact, I came here to share a bit of good news." She reached into the right pocket of her jeans and withdrew what appeared to be an article from the Daily Prophet. Harry took it from her, beckoned her inside the door, and closed it behind her before he started to read.

**Hogwarts to Remain Open**

_New Headmistress Pledges to Provide Protection_

_In a meeting with Ministry of Magic officials yesterday, Minerva McGonagall, acting head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, declared that the school would be remaining open for the foreseeable future. This comes after weeks of speculation that the school would remain closed after the tragic and mysterious death of former headmaster, Albus Dumbledore._

"_It is our duty as educators, to ensure that every student wishes to learn has a safe environment in which to do so," read McGonagall from a prepared statement. "These children have all had their names down on the registry since they first displayed signs of magic, and we can not disappoint them. While I understand that many parents may have reservations about leaving the protection of their children to others at a time such as this, I wish to assure you that all conceivable eventualities are being prepared for. Hogwarts will continue to be as safe as it has always been."_

_Though Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, has pledged his support to the new headmistress, he has been hesitant to offer the services of the Ministry. "Though I feel that a proper education is essential for all of our children, I can't help but feel that the defense of Hogwarts puts an additional strain on our already overtaxed law enforcement offices. Perhaps it is time for Minerva McGonagall and the rest of the Hogwarts staff to start being more proactive in the fight against You-Know-Who, rather than staying holed up in their castle all year." _

_McGonagall, upon being informed of the Minister's remarks, responded by saying: "Without Hogwarts there would be no hope for the future. No witch or wizard, from now until flobberworms fly, would be any better equipped to fight intolerance and terror than the current administration is, and we can see how well they're doing."_

_For more reaction, turn to page 7._

Harry finished the article and looked up at Hermione. She was gazing at him hopefully. "What do you think?" she asked. Harry turned the article over in his hands absently.

"I think that Professor McGonagall has the right idea," he said, carefully. He could tell where this conversation was going to lead, and he wasn't sure that he could handle disappointing Hermione tonight; especially when she was already in this anxious state.

"Well, obviously," said Hermione, huffing slightly. "That's not what I meant. What I really want to know-"

"Is whether I'll reconsider my decision not to go back," said Harry, somewhat more dismissively than he had intended. Hermione frowned and looked slightly put out, but nodded. She opened her mouth to speak, but Harry held up his hand to stop her. "You heard what I said after Dumbledore's funeral, and I stick to it. There is so much that has to be done. And quickly. You know just as well as I do how bad it is out there. In fact, I only know what I do thanks to you. But I can not just sit back and let Voldemort gain more and more power. The Horcrux hunt has to start as soon as I turn seventeen, as soon as I can do magic without the Ministry tossing me in Azkaban."

"But Harry-" began Hermione. Harry started to object, but Hermione was too quick for him. "No. I've listened to what you had to say, and now you'll listen to what I have to say." There was a look of determination in Hermione's eyes that Harry had seen very few times before. He gave a half shrug, urging her to proceed.

"You need to go back to Hogwarts, Harry, and here's why. First, what better resource is there for helping to track down these Horcruxes than the school library?" Harry tried to disguise a laugh. Of course the first reason on Hermione's list of reasons to return to Hogwarts would be the library. Hermione thankfully didn't notice, or didn't care to notice, Harry's amusement. "Think about it. If the Horcruxes once belonged to the school's founders, don't you think that there's a higher probability of finding information on them in the library of that school? Not to mention that one or more of the Horcruxes could actually be at Hogwarts?"

Harry had to admit that Hermione had a point. Dumbledore had told him during his private lessons that Voldemort had likely chosen relics from the founders to put pieces of his soul in. Furthermore, it seemed likely that Voldemort would put the Horcruxes somewhere that had meant a lot to him. Harry knew full well what Tom Riddle felt towards Hogwarts, as he himself had the same feelings.

"Second," continued Hermione, not paying any attention to the reaction she was causing in Harry, "I think that Voldemort would be highly suspicious of why you weren't returning. At the moment I don't think he has any idea what you and Dumbledore were up to, but if you were to change your routine, he'd realize that you were up to something." Again, Harry had to admit that she was making a valid point. Harry needed the element of surprise when looking for Horcruxes, or there was no guarantee that Voldemort wouldn't just make more.

"Third, and perhaps most importantly, Hogwarts needs you Harry, just as much as you need it. Everyone's always said that Dumbledore was the only wizard that Voldemort ever feared, but that's just not true. He's afraid of _you_ Harry." Hermione paused for a breath (Harry noted with awe that she had gone through her list in just one), and Harry took the opportunity to jump into the conversation.

"Now wait just a-"

"Please, Harry. You have to admit that he has a long history of trying to kill you. He wouldn't keep at it if he didn't think there was a good reason. But even beyond that, Dumbledore told you that Voldemort had tried to return to Hogwarts twice in the past, but was unsuccessful. He'll probably try to take Hogwarts again, even without you there – despite what the idiots on page seven think."

"Wait, what?" Harry was suddenly confused. "Page seven?" Hermione lost all of the steam that had accumulated while enumerating the reasons why Harry should return to Hogwarts.

"Oh... it's nothing." She looked as though she really wished she hadn't mentioned it. Harry looked down at the Daily Prophet article in his hand, and realized that it had been continued on page seven. He held it up to Hermione.

"The reactions?" he prompted. Hermione shook her head sadly.

"A lot of parents think that Hogwarts would be safer without you there. They think that Voldemort is going to try and come after you again, and they don't want their children to be caught in the crossfire."

"Makes sense to me," said Harry dejectedly. He couldn't blame people for thinking this way, as he had broken up with Ginny for much the same reason.

"But it doesn't!" Hermione was starting to get worked up again. "You know how to defeat Voldemort, and you're the only one who can actually do it! If the students at Hogwarts are in any more danger than the rest of the wizarding population, it's because you aren't there." Harry opened his mouth to argue the point further, but there was a second knock on the door. Harry looked at it for a moment, not really comprehending that someone wanted to come in. The knock came again, and Hermione looked at him curiously. "Aren't you going to get that?" she asked.

"What? Oh! Right." He again looked through the peephole, and was surprised to see Dudley's girlfriend Jennifer looking back at him. He opened the door, and she walked right by him without a word. "Oi, Jennifer," he said, trying to get her attention. "There's someone I'd like you to meet." Jennifer stopped halfway to the stairs and turned around.

"Oh great," she spat, looking at Hermione, "just what this house needs. Another freak like Harry Potter." And with that, she spun on her heel and dashed up the steps to Dudley's room leaving both Harry and Hermione speechless behind her.

"Friend of yours?" asked Hermione after a minute's silence. Harry shook his head.

"Apparently not. She was very nice to me the last time we talked, though. There's something odd about that girl."

"Well, I really should be getting back home," said Hermione after checking her watch. "I don't want my parents to worry more than they already are. Just promise me that you'll think about going back to Hogwarts, Harry. I really think it's the right decision." Harry nodded, and gave his friend a hug.

"I'll think about it. Definitely. You have, as always, made a strong argument." The hug lasted several moments longer than was strictly necessary, but it did not feel at all awkward.

"See you soon," said Hermione, pulling away. Harry waved at her, and she walked back out the still open front door. Harry closed it behind her, and he could hear a faint pop as she dissaparated.

A/N: As mentioned above, this is not the entire second chapter, merely the first half of it. Please leave a review if you've liked what you've read, or even more importantly, if you haven't. Many thanks.


	3. Chapter 2b: The Snakebit Blitz cont'd

_A/N: The second half of chapter 2. _

The remainder of Harry's time at the Dursley's crawled so slowly, that Harry began to hold his watch up to his ear several times a day to make sure that it was still ticking. Beyond the general speed of its passing, however, it was almost wholly unremarkable. The "Snakebit Blitz" continued, with everyone old enough to remember the reign of Grindelwald making inevitable comparisons, Harry continued to get Hermione's copies of the Daily Prophet via owl, and the Dursleys, and now Jennifer, seemed to avoid contact with Harry altogether. Harry assumed that this was so they wouldn't have to be nice to him.

He had spent a lot of his copious free time thinking about Hermione's arguments for why he should return to Hogwarts, and while she had certainly made him waver in his certainty that he would not return, he still was not certain what it was he would eventually decide. He was dreaming about this very decision on the morning of July 31st, when he was awoken by the tapping of an owl at his window. Harry rolled over and off his bed, falling noisily to the floor. It took him several moments of rolling around to realize that he was now seventeen years old, and that he would be leaving the Dursley's for good later that day.

He sat up and stretched, rubbing his right elbow, which he had banged on the floor when he had fallen out of bed. He was momentarily confused as to why he was sitting on the floor, but the increasingly insistent tapping on his window quickly reminded him. He got to his feet and crossed to the window. There were several owls sitting in the tree out in the yard, all with packages of varying size tied to their legs. Pigwidgeon, Ron's minuscule owl was the only owl on the window sill, and the source of the tapping. Harry opened the window and Pigwidgeon flew through excitedly, zooming around the room and bumping into the lampshade of Harry's bedside lamp.

"Yes, yes, it's nice to see you too, Pig," said Harry earnestly. "But would you mind not destroying my room?" The remainder of the owls shook the sleep from their wings and soared one by one through the now open window. Once inside, they all took great pains to try and distance themselves from Pig, who was now trying to get Harry to take the package from his leg by flying small circles around his head.

Harry reached up and plucked Pigwidgeon out of the air, noting with amusement that should he ever need a Golden Snitch replacement, Ron's owl would serve quite nicely. He untied the bit of string attaching Ron's package to the owl, and then released it. Pig flew happily over to where Hedwig was resting, waiting to deliver a package of her own. Pigwidgeon continued to hop up and down even after landing, and Hedwig took two steps sideways away from him.

Harry unwrapped the first of his birthday presents eagerly. He still hadn't quite gotten used to the idea of receiving meaningful gifts for his birthday, as the majority of his had been ignored. Ron had sent him a selection of Harry' s favorite candy, and – Harry had to blink several times to make sure he wasn't imagining things – also nestled on top of the box was a Cornelius Agrippa chocolate frog card. He picked it up carefully, knowing full well how much it must have pained Ron to part with this particular card. It was, after all, the only one he did not have in his collection. Harry let out a long low whistle, and unfolded the note that had been attached to Ron's gift.

_Harry,_

_Would you PLEASE hurry up and get here already? All this talk about flowers and dresses is driving me mental. Not only do I have Mum and Fleur, but Ginny, Gabrielle, and Fleur's mother too. Nobody can agree on anything concerning the wedding, and they're always asking me my opinion. "Ron, you're male, what do you think of this?" You know what I think, Harry? I think I couldn't care less. As long as there's good food I'll be happy. _

_And speaking of Gabrielle, I've got to warn you that she still thinks quite highly of you. I've seen her drawing little hearts around your name whenever it comes up in the Daily Prophet, and she has a calendar where she was counting down the days remaining to your birthday. Completely mental, the whole lot of them._

_What I wouldn't give to be able to apparate. If not for my bloody eyebrow, I could have visited you this summer, but no... I've been stuck here helping to decide on invitations and place settings. That reminds me, I've got a date set up for the re-test on my apparition exam. You should come and take it too. It'll be useful, I'm sure._

_Anyway, I have a feeling I'll be seeing you tonight, at which point Mum will have someone else to pester._

_Did I mention, please hurry?_

_ Ron_

_P.S. I can't believe I'm doing this, but that card was meant to be yours. I bought the frogs for you... I just got hungry on the way back home. Just... promise me that you'll let me look at it once in a while?_

The thing that immediately stuck Harry about Ron's note was its length. He couldn't remember his best friend ever writing this much at one time, even for lengthy school assignments. Harry could see Ron in his mind's eye, huddled up in the attic with the ghoul while writing this, and trying desperately not to get found. Harry unwrapped a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, picked an innocuous looking white one (unfortunately it was gym sock flavored), and gingerly placed the Agrippa card on his desk, making sure to clear a space so that no ill might befall it.

Harry turned his attention back to the waiting owls, and noted that Errol had two packages – one tied to each leg. Feeling sorry for the elderly owl, he loosened them both, and offered Errol a bit of an owl treat. Errol gave a feeble hoot and then proceeded to hack and wheeze violently. Harry decided that perhaps an owl treat wasn't the best idea, and instead placed Hedwig's water dish in front of Errol. The owl promptly fell face first into it. Though concerned, Harry had seen Errol act as though he were about to die several times in the last few years, so he simply picked up Errol's head and removed it from the dish, and he then turned his attention to the packages that Errol had delivered.

The first package was from Mrs. Weasley. She had sent along a large batch of chocolate biscuits, and a note letting Harry know he was welcome to come and stay at The Burrow, as soon as he was ready.

The other package had Harry very curious. He had already opened Ron's gift – he nervously glanced over at the card on his desk, wanting to make sure it was still there and in one piece – and no one else had ever sent him a birthday present from the Burrow besides Ron and Mrs. Weasley. He ripped open the accompanying note, and immediately recognized the flowery handwriting.

_Harry,_

_I know that you were not expecting a gift, but since I already had it, and since my feelings for you haven't changed, I thought I'd give it to you anyway. I understand why you believe we can no longer be together. I also understand that you can't help the fact that you are an idiot. I know how you feel about me, Harry. You know how I feel about you. And I know that no matter how much you resist, you'll never be rid of me. _

_Ginny_

_P.S. Bring your dancing shoes to the wedding. I'd hate to have to use Tarantallegra on you._

Harry put down the note and sighed. He could feel the hibernating monster in his chest stir slightly. He had not really wanted to break up with Ginny of course, but the task he had before him did not leave him with a choice. He would never forgive himself if something happened to her because he hadn't been strong enough to stick to his decision. The monster stretched and rolled over in its bed. It was certainly having a restless sleep.

Ginny's gift was even more surprising than the note, and Harry burst into genuine laughter at the sight of it. It was a plaque shaped like a Golden Snitch, upon which, the following was etched:

_Top Gryffindor Seekers of Recent Memory  
Name Catch Rate  
Ginevra Weasley 100  
Harry Potter 78  
Charlie Weasley 67_

Harry's first reaction (after laughing hysterically), was to object. He had only failed to catch the Snitch twice in his Quidditch career, and in both of those instances there were extenuating circumstances. Back in his second year, he had fallen off of his broom due to a swarm of Dementors, and then McLaggen – the prat – had taken it upon himself to wallop Harry in the head with a beater's bat in sixth year. Suddenly, and without really realizing it, Harry was really looking forward to seeing Ginny at the wedding. They were certainly going to have a lot to talk about.

Harry set the plaque down beside him on the bed, and the next owl in line, a barn owl that Harry remembered seeing in the owlery at Hogwarts before, fluttered over to him and held up its leg. Harry was not surprised to see Hagrid's uneven scrawl on the package. He carefully untied it, and read the accom_panying note._

_Harry, _

_I hope you enjoy these. Grawp helped me make them, and he says hello. You'd hardly recognize him Harry, he's coming along so well. I hope you have a happy birthday, and I look forward to seeing you in September. Me and Grawp will be waiting with a special surprise._

_-Hagrid_

Harry opened the package Hagrid had sent, and found that it contained the aptly named rock cakes. Though he loved the half-giant, and he was willing to overlook most of his shortcomings, Harry had to admit that Hagrid's cooking was something of an acquired taste. Acquired only by those able to not break their teeth on it.

The final owl was Hedwig, and she gave a soft hoot as she allowed Harry to untie the heavy and suspiciously book-shaped package from her. Harry ruffled the feathers of the snowy owl's head affectionately. "Thanks, Hedwig," he said softly. The package was from Hermione, and again there was a card attached to the front of it.

_Harry,_

_I hope that you have a happy birthday, and I also hope that my present will be of some use to you in the near future. It's just fiction, but it was all I could find on the subject. I'll keep this short, since we'll be able to talk tonight. I'm off to the Burrow now as well in anticipation of the wedding._

_Love Always,_

_ Hermione_

If Ron's letter had been noteworthy because of its length, then Hermione's was equally extraordinary in its brevity. Harry supposed that she might have been telling the truth, and that there was no point in writing much since they were just going to see each other that night, but he couldn't help but remember the way she had acted on his doorstep just two weeks ago. Feeling concerned for his friend's well-being, he opened her gift. It was, as he expected, a book.

The cover was a reddish-brown leather, and it looked well worn, as though someone had read and re-read the book over the course of many years. There was no title or author on the cover of the book, nor on the spine, so Harry flipped through the first few pages trying to find the title page. When he found it, he gasped loudly and stared at the words written on the page.

_Soul Shattering: An Exercise in Immortality _

_by Metus Letum _

Harry wondered to himself how in the world Hermione had managed to get her hands on this book. There was only one book in the whole of the Hogwarts library that spoke of Horcruxes, and even then, that was just to let the reader know that there would be no talk of Horcruxes in the book. But like Hermione's note had said, this was apparently just a work of fiction, so there may not be any useful information in it. But then again, pondered Harry, Hermione must have read the book herself, and she wouldn't have sent it along to him if she didn't think it would help.

His resolve freshly strengthened by the book, and the potential help that it offered, Harry began gathering his possessions from around the room for the last time. It wasn't until Hedwig, her talons resting on Harry's wand, let out a loud hoot that Harry realized that he could now do magic outside of school. He quickly walked over to Hedwig, who gave him an encouraging nip, and took hold of his wand. He had seen Tonks pack all of his things quickly a few years ago, and decided that this would be an excellent opportunity to try out the spell.

"Pack!" he said loudly, flicking his wand wrist smartly. Harry's belongings gave a shudder, rose from their resting places, and began moving in the general direction of his trunk. Unfortunately, several of the items (Harry's broomstick, a book of charms, several pairs of socks, and his case of potions ingredients among other things) decided that they were not in the mood for being packed and fell to the floor halfway between the trunk and where they had been stored. Harry also heard a rattling from beneath his bed, and upon closer inspection found that the items he kept underneath the loose floorboard there were struggling to escape.

Harry sighed – apparently he was going to have to pack the Muggle way. He bent over, removed the floorboard, and immediately placed his hands over his head. Several heavy objects had hurtled out of the space, one of which had smacked him directly beneath the eyes. He heard a metallic clunk as whatever it was hit the floor, and Harry uncovered his head to look at it. It was the fake Horcrux.

Harry stooped over and picked it up, cursing under his breath. He had carried it with him for a time to remind him of the work that still remained to be done before he could take on Voldemort. He had hidden it under the bed after it became to painful to look at – the constant reminder was too frustrating here on Privet Drive where nothing could be done. He flipped open the locket and again read the note from the mysterious R.A.B., and vowed to himself that the hunt would begin today. He pocketed the locket, and resumed his packing.

It took Harry only a few more minutes to put all of his earthly possessions into his trunk. He recalled vividly how little he had to his name when he left for Hogwarts the first time, and was briefly overcome with a sense of melancholy as he surveyed the contents of his trunk. He thought back on how he had come to acquire this eclectic collection of objects. His own collection of Horcruxes, he thought, each with a piece of his memory attached to it.

Snapping out of his reverie, Harry closed the trunk and cast a levitation charm on it so that it would follow behind him. He took one last look around his room to make sure that he hadn't missed anything, placed Hedwig and Errol in Hedwig's cage (the remaining owls had left some time ago), and placed the cage on top of the trunk, ensuring that it wouldn't fall off by strapping it down with a belt. He then switched off the lights, and closed the door behind him.

He found the Dursleys gathered around the kitchen table – they had purchased a new one soon after Dudley had destoryed their previous table – trying to look as small as possible. The effect was comical in the case of Uncle Vernon and Dudley, both of whom Harry sincerely doubted would ever be considered small. "Good morning," he greeted them cheerfully. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

"Uhhng..." mumbled Vernon noncomittally. Dudley just shrank further down in his chair, trying to hide behind a box of cereal conveniently placed in front of him.

"Well," continued Harry, not at all put out by the lack of a response, "as you know, I turn seventeen today, and that means that I'm of age in the wizarding world." Vernon and Petunia both flinched noticeably at the mention of the 'w' word, but neither of them spoke. "And of course that means I am now free to do magic-" Harry took out the wand from his back pocket and flourished it dramatically - "outside of school." Dudley let out a shriek, and his chair toppled over backwards. He had been so eager to get away from Harry and his wand, that he'd pushed back in his chair a bit too hastily.

"Now boy," began Vernon, suddenly very pale and nervous, "wait, no, Harry! Yes! H-Harry, happy b-birthday! Would you like some breakfast?" Petunia nodded eagerly beside her husband and sprang to her feet, ready to act on the merest suggestion from Harry. Harry just shook his head.

"Oh no," he said with a smile plastered all over his face. He only hoped that the Dursleys were as uncomfortable being treated with fake-kindness as he had been all summer. "I just thought I'd pop in and give you all some going away presents, and then be on my way." He lifted his wand higher, and pointed it directly at Dudley, who was crab-walking backwards into the corner of the room.

Vernon's face very quickly reverted back to it's normal color and then sped on past that to puce – though Harry would argue that puce was truly his Uncle's normal color – and the veins in his head popped out noticeably. Here was the Uncle Vernon that Harry had grown up in fear of.

"YOU WOULDN'T DARE!" he roared, and he lept to his feet, knocking his chair over in the process. "AFTER ALL THAT WE'VE DONE FOR YOU?" Petunia was desperately pulling at the sleeve of her husband's shirt, trying to get him to sit back down. Vernon paid her no attention. "I TRIED TO BE NICE TO YOU ALL SUMMER, AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY US? WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO? KILL US?" He began moving towards Harry. Harry held his ground and trained his wand on his uncle, granting Dudley a temporary reprieve. Vernon stopped his advance.

"I've actually been giving a lot of thought to what I'd like to do to you three before I lef-"

"What's all the commotion?" Harry snapped his neck around, keeping his wand pointed at Mr. Dursley. Jennifer had picked a very inopportune moment to enter the kitchen. Petunia gasped. Dudley lept to his feet, showing more courage that Harry thought he possessed, and ran to Jennifer's side. Harry allowed him to do so without incident.

"You should go," Dudley told his girlfriend quietly. "We're having a... er... family meeting?" he finished feebly. He glanced back at his mother for validation, and she nodded.

"That's right Jennifer," she said quickly. "Harry here was just fooling around with his um... stick, and it upset Vernon. We'll be back to normal in a moment." Harry, still looking at Jennifer, noticed a sly smile pass her features.

"You mean Harry's wand?" she asked casually. "It's no big deal really, I've got one too." To everyone's amazement, she took her right hand and reached up the left sleeve of her shirt, withdrawing a long thin piece of wood that Harry knew could be only one thing. Beside her, Dudley gave a girlish shriek and promptly toppled to the ground. Harry couldn't blame him. He was absolutely shocked at this turn of events, and he whipped his wand around to train it on Jennifer.

"Easy," she said gently, and she screwed up her face for a moment. Seconds later her hair turned a shocking pink. "Wotcher, Harry." Harry's mouth dropped open in amazement, and his wand arm hung limply at his side. Jennifer was Tonks? He couldn't even begin to wrap his mind around this one. Behind him, Vernon and Petunia were both spluttering incoherently. Dudley had begun to convulse on the floor.

"But how?" asked Harry. He now had a hundred different questions that he wanted to ask the Metamorphmagus, but he found that he was having a hard type making his mouth speak in sentences. "Did you? With Dudley?" Tonks screwed up her face again, but this time it was not to change her appearance.

"Goodness no. The boy is incorrigible. Besides, you know I like my men a little older," she said with a wink. "There is a real Jennifer, and I believe the two of you have met. I just took her place on a few occasions to check up on you." Harry's mind was running to catch up. He thought back to the day that Jennifer had offered to make him breakfast.

"It was you! You made me breakfast! That's why you shrunk away from Dudley, and why you didn't know what a toaster was." He smiled. It was all beginning to make sense to him. Tonks touched a finger to her nose.

"Right in one. But anyway, we should really be going. The Death Eaters are probably on their way here as we speak. The protection on this place won't last for long."

"D-Death Eaters?" stammered Petunia from where she was still seated. Harry had forgotten that she was still there.

"You don't want to know," said Harry not-unkindly. "I was just about done here Tonks, just let me say one thing." Tonks nodded, and turned her hair back so that she looked fully like Jennifer once again.

Harry turned back to the aunt and uncle who had tormented him for so long. They both cowered in fear. "Orchideus," mumbled Harry, and a bouquet of flowers shot out of his wand. Petunia screamed and fell out of her chair, and Vernon clutched at his chest. Harry took hold of the flowers protruding out of his wand, and slapped them down on the table.

"Thanks for your hospitality," he spat. He turned on his heel, nodded at Tonks, and walked out of the kitchen, determined not to look back.

"Mighty generous of you Harry," said Tonks, following along behind him. "I probably wouldn't have been so nice." Harry shook his head sadly.

"Trust me, they aren't worth the trouble." he once again put a levitation charm on his trunk, which he had left out in the hall, and started towards the front door. "So where are we going, and how are we getting there?" he asked.

"Hold on a minute, Harry," warned Tonks, grabbing hold of his arm to keep him from going through the front door. We'll be apparating obviously. I know you don't have a license, but you can side-along with me."

"All right," replied Harry, holding out his hand.

"No no... we can't apparate from inside the house. An anti-apparition barrier was put in place yesterday so the Death Eaters couldn't waltz on in as soon as they discovered where you were being hidden." Harry was confused.

"So they know where I am now?" he asked. He knew the magic that protected him as long as he was able to call Privet Drive home had expired when he turned seventeen, but he really had no idea what the magic had actually done.

"I don't know Harry. I just know that we need to be extremely careful. That's why I'm here this morning. I need to go outside first to make sure it's safe." Harry was about to object, but Tonks held up a hand to stop him. "Please, Harry. Let me do my job. No one will recognize me anyway. They'll just think that I'm a Muggle girl." She replaced her wand in the hidden pocket in her sleeve as she spoke. "You wait here."

"But Tonks!" Harry's plea fell on deaf ears, and Tonks turned to the door and opened it cautiously. She stepped outside, and was suddenly tumbling forward down the front steps as curses and hexes flew at her from several directions. Harry dashed forward, his own wand at the ready. "NO!" he shouted, stopping just short of the threshold.

"Damn it, everyone! You know that we were only supposed to be aiming for Potter," came a female growl from somewhere in front of the house. Harry couldn't see who had spoken. Regardless, he couldn't take his eyes off of the body of Nymphadora Tonks lying motionless at the base of the front steps.

"Shut up! Look, there he is." Harry could not see any of the people who were speaking and it was very disconcerting not knowing where his enemies were.

"Show yourselves!" he shouted. "Don't hide like cowards, come and fight me like a man."

"Ooh... so Potter fancies himself a man now that he's turned seventeen," snarled an unpleasant voice from somewhere on the other side of the door. "Why don't you come out here and play with us if you're so big and brave?" Several other individuals snickered. "Or would _you_ rather play the part of coward?"

"I am not a coward!" shouted Harry, and he began to move forward.

"Harry! No!" Tonks had rolled over unnoticed at the foot of the stairs and had her wand out. "_Expelliarmus_!" she shouted, with her wand pointed at Harry. Harry was so surprised, that he stopped where he was and glared at Tonks, until he realized that the spell had not hit him. It had dissipated as soon as it hit the open doorway. Suddenly he understood. She had wanted him to realize that he was still protected until he actually left the house.

Unfortunately for Tonks, this act had cost her greatly. "She's a witch!" one of the unseen Death Eaters shouted.

"She's got a wand!" shouted another.

"_Expelliarmus_!" shouted a third, and Tonks's wand suddenly flew towards a spot some ten meters from the front door of number four. Harry immediately trained his wand on the spot, and let loose a string of spells.

"You idiot! Now he knows where we are!"

"What do we do with the girl?" asked the particularly unpleasant voice that Harry had heard before.

"Let's try to get some information out of her. _Crucio_!" Harry watched in horror as Tonks began to shake uncontrollably and screamed. He had to help her, but he was left with only two options. He could run blindly out of the house and take on Merlin knew how many Death Eaters that he couldn't see, or he could try to raise the alarm and get help. But he couldn't do that either from inside the house, as he couldn't apparate through the barrier, and there was no fireplace or floo powder. He could fly away on his Firebolt, but it would take far too long for him to get anywhere where there was someone who could help.

Making up his mind, Harry gripped his wand tighter, and bolted through the door, trying to make a break for Tonks. The reaction was too swift for him. Several curses came flying in his direction, and he had to dodge out of the way, halting his attempt to reach her. Ducking behind the bushes beside the front door, he again considered his options. It certainly seemed helpless to stay here, but he really didn't want to leave Tonks to these monsters.

Finally reaching a hesitant decision, Harry tried his best to concentrate on the Burrow, spun, and apparated away from Privet Drive.

_A/N: This chapter was really a difficult one to get through. The beginning and the end really wrote themselves, something that's always nice. The middle really came in fits and starts, though. I especially agonized over Ginny's birthday present and her gift. However, I am absolutely thrilled with how it came out, and I can really see canon!Ginny giving Harry a gift like that. I do hope that you'll agree with me._

_If you'd be so kind as to leave a review I'd appreciate it. I do respond to all of my reviews, so if you ask a question or would otherwise like to see how I respond to your criticism, remember to check back on the review page. I do try to shy away from giving spoilers though. Thank you again for reading, and s__ee you next time!_


	4. Chapter 3a: Ups and Downs

**Chapter 3: Ups and Downs**

Harry knew as soon as he had arrived at his destination that something had gone wrong with his apparition. The sudden onset of increased pressure had been much the same as his other successful attempts to apparate – whether alone or with another – but in each of those cases, the pressure had released suddenly, like air released from a burst luminous balloon (or at least theoretically; they were nonexplodable after all). This time, however, Harry felt as though he was slowly being squeezed from a tube of toothpaste.

Harry's first thought, after a few gasping breaths, was that he had been splinched. He clearly remembered Wilkie Twycross, the Ministry of Magic's gauzy apparition instructor, teaching the sixth years at Hogwarts that a lack of determination was the leading cause of splinching accidents in young apparators. Unbidden, images of Death Eaters having a go at bits of himself back on Privet Drive sprang to Harry's mind. Harry shuddered violently at the thought, and quickly patted himself down and wiggled his toes. Everything seemed to be in order. His moment of irrational panic over, Harry remembered the real reason he had apparated in the first place.

Straightening up – he'd been making sure his knees and ankles were still in place – he tried to figure out where he was. He had attempted to apparate to the Burrow. He had assumed that at the very least Mrs. Weasley would be in the kitchen making breakfast. With any luck Bill, Charlie, and Mr. Weasley might also be home. But as Harry turned a full circle, he came to realize that he could not see the Weasley homestead anywhere.

Confused, and worried that valuable time was slipping through his fingers, Harry decided to take a chance. "Hello! Can anyone hear me?" he called. He waited for a moment, but there was no reply. "There's been an attack!" he cried desperately, hoping that someone could hear him.

Harry looked around himself once again, this time making a much more thorough job of it. He could have sworn that – yes! He did indeed recognize the area. He was on the road leading up to the Burrow that ran out of Ottery St. Catchpole. He could clearly see Stoatshead Hill over to the east. But he should have been able to see the Burrow from here. He furrowed his brow and took off down the road, towards where the Burrow should have been, at a sprint.

He had been this way just once before, the day he'd walked to the top of the nearby hill to take a Portkey to the Quidditch World Cup. Of course that had been before Voldemort's rebirth. Before Sirius. Before Dumbledore. Harry swore under his breath and redoubled his effort. He wasn't going to let Tonks's name get added to that list on his watch.

He reached the turnoff for the Burrow, but was surprised when he didn't see the lopsided wooden sign that usually stood to the right of the path leading up to the house. And he still couldn't see the Weasley residence itself. In the spot where it usually stood there was nothing but a large open patch of grass. Harry felt a surge of panic well up inside of him. Had the Death Eaters attacked here as well? No, he was certain that he'd have heard from Hermione if the Weasleys had been attacked. Not to mention there was no Dark Mark in the sky.

But there was no doubting that this was the right place. Over there was the clearing where he and the Weasleys had played Quidditch in years past and several chickens were pecking at the ground over in a corner of the large treeless area. Confused, and increasingly curious, Harry continued to run towards the place where the front door would normally have been. To his great surprise, the Burrow sprang up before him in all its ramshackle glory when he was just feet from it. A great weight lifted off of his shoulders, Harry ran up the porch steps, starting to gasp for breath.

"Help!" he cried, bolting for the front door. "Death Eaters have got Tonks!" He had received no reply before reaching the front door, and so he barreled through it, nearly sending it flying off of its hinges. As he passed the threshold, he could hear noise coming from the kitchen. Bacon or sausage was sizzling heartily, and Mrs. Weasley was humming along with one of her favorite Celestina Warbeck tunes, which was softly playing on the Wizard's Wireless.

"Help! Mrs. Weasley!" he called to her, running through the open door to the kitchen. Molly Weasley, a bright yellow apron tied around her middle, was standing over the sink, using one hand to coax a reluctant sausage onto a plate. Her other hand held her wand, which was trained over her shoulder at giant bowl of mash that was stirring itself lazily. Molly gasped loudly and spun around as Harry slid to a stop at the foot of the kitchen table. The mixing bowl fell out of the air, and shattered on the floor.

Harry instantly felt a pang of regret. He felt terrible for upsetting Mrs. Weasley, the closest thing he had to a mother. Unfortunately, it seemed to be happening much more often lately. Ron's near-death the previous year, her husband's almost fatal encounter with Nagini, Bill's run-in with Fenrir Greyback; Harry placed a large portion of the blame for each of these incidents on himself. Having seen Mrs. Weasley dealing with a boggart, he knew just how much pain his presence in the Weasleys' life had caused her. He was therefore eternally grateful for all she had done, and continued to do, for him.

"H-" she opened her mouth, but Harry was too fast for her.

"They've- got Tonks," he gasped. His sprint had left him slightly winded. Mrs. Weasley's free hand flew to her mouth, and Harry could see it shaking tremulously. Another pang of guilt hit him, but it was too late to go elsewhere.

"Who has Tonks, Harry?" she asked, looking as she spoke, at the clock sitting on the kitchen table. All of its hands, Harry saw, still pointed to 'mortal peril.' This was unfortunate, as Harry would have liked to know where the other Weasleys were just then.

"Death Eaters," Harry spat, regaining his breath. "Tonks was attacked by Death Eaters outside of my relatives' house in Surrey," he said, trying to be as succinct as possible. Mrs. Weasley looked at him in stunned silence. The music from the Wizard's Wireless continued to play gaily in the background. "We have to help her!" Harry shouted. It was taking far longer to raise the alarm than he had intended, and he was once again questioning his decision to leave Tonks behind. Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth to speak, but she never got the chance, as a voice came from the doorway to the kitchen.

"Qu'est-ce qui se passe?"Harry spun around, his wand at the ready. He didn't expect trouble in the Burrow, but he hadn't expected it on Privet Drive either.

"Callá!" breathed Mrs. Weasley, clearly relieved.

Framed in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room was one of the most beautiful women that Harry had ever seen. She was tall and willowy, and long blond hair cascaded down to her waist. Framed as she was by the door, Harry would have sworn he was looking at a painting had he not known better. He reached up and unconsciously attempted to flatten the back of his hair.

"Se calmer, a rangé cela," said the stranger in a language Harry didn't understand. Her graceful hands implored Harry to put his wand down. He immediately did so. This was not the sort of woman to say "no" to. After replacing his wand in his back pocket, Harry looked back up and was surprised – and slightly disappointed – that the beautiful woman was not looking at him, but instead had focused her attention over his shoulder.

Harry spun around and saw Mrs. Weasley miming fervently. She was pointing at Harry, then at the back door and the windows, then shaking her head vigorously. After repeating this charade a second time, Callá spoke behind Harry.

"Oui, je le garderai de partir."Even Harry, who had not had the normal Muggle complement of foreign languages, had learned enough during the Tri-wizard tournament to be certain the woman was speaking French. He was also certain that Mrs. Weasley had just asked her to keep him from trying to escape and help Tonks.

"NO!" he shouted, anger starting to boil within him. "I'm not going to just stay here! I can help!" He could feel his face getting warm, and his hands were clenched into fists at his sides.

"Harry," implored Mrs. Weasley hurriedly untying her apron, "it's just not safe. It could be a trap."

"Could be? _Could _be a trap? I hadn't thought of that Mrs. Weasley," Harry blurted out, before he could stop himself. Mrs. Weasley glowered at him, and he knew that he had gone a step too far.

"We'll talk about this later," she said, before bustling out of the room. The Frenchwoman stepped aside to allow Mrs. Weasley to pass, then reclaimed her position in the doorway. Behind her, Harry could hear the front door slam shut. Harry stood rooted to the spot and glared at his captor. She merely smiled at him while the Wizard's Wireless relayed the weather report ("There's an 84 chance of Dementor breeding, so be sure to have your fog lanterns handy if you're flying in to work today"). Harry found it maddening, though this was hardly different from the rest of the morning.

"I can't do this anymore," he groaned, and he slumped down onto one of the benches that were stationed around the kitchen table. He had the claustrophobic feeling he often had when forced to sit idly by. Ironically, he thought, it felt almost the same as being locked in the cupboard underneath the stairs for all those years. He had finally managed to escape the captors who wanted to keep the world safe from him, only to run into the arms of the one woman who would lock him up to keep him safe from the world.

He grabbed a bit of toast from a plate of food – mostly empty he noticed – and nibbled at it half-heartedly as he chided himself for being so upset. Mrs. Weasley had, after all, only had his best interests in mind, whereas the Dursleys never spared a thought for him.

In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Mrs. Weasley was his last great protector. Recently, the strong magical envelope that had kept him safe for so long had begun to fail. Voldemort had managed to overcome the sacrifice of Harry's mother, the hallowed halls of Hogwarts had failed to keep out Death Eaters, his time had run out with the Dursleys, and Dumbledore, perhaps the greatest protector of them all, had been murdered in front of him. No, Harry thought, perhaps the mollycoddling wasn't so bad. He resolved to apologize to Mrs. Weasley when she got back.

Harry had been so deep in thought, that he was startled when he looked up to find that the beautiful Frenchwoman had taken a seat at the table opposite him. She was looking at a copy of the Daily Prophet with keen interest, and Harry wondered if perhaps she could understand English after all. "Anybody die?" he asked bitterly. He hoped against hope that news of Tonks's death would not be front page news come the evening edition. The stranger tilted her head to one side, and looked at Harry as though trying to puzzle out what he had said. She said nothing however, and instead flipped the front page of the newspaper over so that Harry could see it.

"Harry Potter?" she asked, pointing to a large picture of Harry in the center of the page, underneath the headline: "Boy Who Lived a Boy No More." Harry groaned, and grabbed another slice of toast.

"Yeah, that's me. Don't you see the scar?" Harry was so used to people's eyes wandering to his forehead when the scar was mentioned, that he took the lack of this reaction from his guard to mean that she indeed could not understand him. He rolled his eyes, and moodily bit into the toast.

"Je suis Callá Delacour. C'est un plaisir finalement pour vous rencontrer." The woman had put the paper back down on the table and extended her hand. Harry hesitated only a moment before taking it. No sense in burning bridges, especially when the individual on the other end was so extraordinarily picturesque. It was only fitting that Fleur Delacour – herself an exceptionally pretty girl (and quarter-Veela) – would have an even more enchanting mother.

"J'ai entendu si beaucoup de vous, Harry. Mes plus jeunes discours de vous sans cesse," she offered conversationally.

"I'm sorry, but I don't speak French," Harry said, lamely. There was a moment or two of silence where nothing was said. The two sat looking at each other over the table, but separated by a language gap far wider than that. It was the most alone that Harry had ever felt at the Burrow.

"Where's everyone else?" he finally asked, if only to break the uncomfortable silence. Whenever there was nothing being said he could hear the Wizard's Wireless continuing to buzz happily. It also gave him more time to think about what might be happening to Tonks. She might very well be dead by now, Harry thought. If she was indeed dead, he was sure that he'd never forgive himself for leaving her behind. He was sure that Remus Lupin would never forgive him either.

Callá once again cocked her head to the side, and Harry understood that this was her way of saying that she didn't understand. He decided it would probably be easier to get his point across using hand gestures as Mrs. Weasley had done earlier. He gestured to the empty spaces on the benches and shrugged his shoulders. Mrs. Delacour tilted her head to the side. Harry tried again, this time pointing to the clock that Mrs. Weasley had left on the table – none of the hands had moved, so at the very least, none of the Weasleys had been killed so far if they were attempting to rescue Tonks – but Callá still seemed baffled. Harry was getting frustrated.

"Oh for the love of Merlin," he groaned. He got up from the table and started to pace back and forth. This was turning out to be the worst birthday he'd ever had. He looked back at Mrs. Delacour, determined to have one more go at trying to make her understand his question. He was surprised to see that she had drawn her wand and was pointing it at him. She was still frowning.

"_Laetificus,_" she said with a flick of her wand. This was a word that Harry knew, but he was having trouble placing it. It was definitely Latin though, so it was probably a spell. This was confirmed when Harry felt a warmth rush through his body. All of his cares seemed to melt away into nothingness, it was really no concern that Tonks might be dead, or that Voldemort was still trying to kill him. The Horcrux hunt was now the farthest thing from Harry's mind. With dawning realization, he realized that he'd just been hit with a Cheering Charm. And a rather good one, by the feel of it.

Harry sat down again at the table, and helped himself to a plate of food. He was suddenly quite hungry. Calla remained seated across from him, a big smile on her face. "N'est pas que mieux?" she asked. "Il ne fera pas pour être si d'humeur changeante avec une noce montant."

Harry returned the smile. It was a lovely day after all, and he was in his second favorite place in all the world. Cheery music was providing nice ambiance, and he was certainly enjoying the view. "It's so nice to be here," he said happily. "I think I'll go and see if Ron's here. Maybe he'll want to play a spot of Quidditch." Mrs. Delacour's face lit up at the mention of Ron, and she was miming at Harry enthusiastically.

"Ronald!" she exclaimed, pointing up towards the ceiling. "Il n'est pas la chose la plus mignonne jamais?" Harry laughed. He had no idea why he was laughing, but it certainly seemed like the thing to do.

"I could sit and listen to you all day," he began, "but I'd really like to go see Ronald." Harry pointed up at the ceiling, mimicking Mrs. Delacour, and he giggled. Ronald Weasley. The name sounded pretty funny when you thought about it. "He's asleep of course, is he not?" Callá once again tilted her head to the side, though her smile remained. Harry smiled back, and pretended he was sleeping, by putting his head on his hands. Callá laughed heartily, a musical feat that enchanted Harry far more than anything he'd ever heard from Celestina Warbeck.

"Toujours," she said nodding. Harry stood up quickly, and bowed very low.

"It was a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Delacour, I feel certain that we'll meet again soon." Harry burst into another fit of giggles as he very nearly skipped up the stairs to his best friend's room.

_A/N: Please pardon my French. I speak no French at all, and as such used a free online translator. I don't think it matters all that much._

_Again, this is not the entire chapter. But it had been a while since I updated, not because I haven't been working on this, but because I've been reworking this particular scene several times. I'm still not particularly happy with it, but it was time to move on._


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